Emory Holiday
by Harlow Nicole
Summary: Emory is Harry's age, and is just another muggle-born student at Hogwarts. This follows her throughout the chaos depicted in the series.
1. Chapter One

My parents thought it was a scam. What else could it be? We get some letter on super-nice paper, in green ink, stating quite clearly that I was to go to a school that taught magic on the other side of the world.

My parent's reaction: Throw the thing out.

My reaction: Don't they have one on _this _side of the world?

Hey, I was twelve. I thought it was cool. It had a pretty dumb name, though. 'Hogwarts'? Come on, couldn't they name it something cooler? Like, Arbadac, or something?

So, Dad was about to toss the thing, when someone raps on the door. Loudly.

My parent's reaction: "Em, get the door!"

My reaction: We have a doorbell, you know. Jeeze.

So, I open the door, and there stands this really tall old guy with a really long beard. He has half-moon glasses, and he's wearing a dress.

"Whatever your selling, we don't want it." I told him. What was I _supposed _to think?

He just smiled this knowing smile. "I am Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Are your parents home, Emory?"

I cocked my head. "Wait here." I instructed. I headed back into the kitchen, where Dad was skimming the paper and Mom was reading over his shoulder.

"Who was it, Em?" Mom asked, turning around.

"Um, some old guy who says he's head-thingie of that school in the letter."

Mom raised her eyebrows, and followed me to the front.

Old-dude-in-dress was standing in the doorway, blissfully examining the hanging flowers in the pot on the porch.

"You have lovely begonias, Mrs. Holiday." He said, gently brushing the petals with a thin finger. He looked at my mom, still smiling blissfully.

"Thank you, Mr…" She was looking at him with the look that said, 'if you don't give me a good reason not to, I'm going to slam this door in your face.'

"Ah, right, how silly of me. I am Albus Dumbledore. Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. May I come in?"

Mom looked a bit flabbergasted, then stepped aside and gestured for him to come in. He smiled at her again, and I followed them to the living room. Mom invited him to sit, asked him if he wanted anything, received the answer of tea, then left to go get mr-old-british-dude his tea.

I sat on the armrest of the couch, about five feet in front of the chair the old guy was sitting in.

Dress-man looked at me. "Do you still have the letter, Emory?"

I thought. "Um… I think Dad threw it out about thirty seconds ago." He didn't say a word. "Um…want me to go get it, or…?"

He continued smiling. I swear, if his smile got any wider, his face would have to expand. "Oh no, that's quite alright." He pulled a stick out of his pocket, flicked it, and out of midair appeared a letter exactly like the one we'd gotten about a half hour ago. He caught it as it fluttered to his lap, and held it out in his spidery hands.

I stared at it for a second, in total shock, then warily took it, and re-read the address.

_Ms. E. Holiday,_

_Second upstairs bedroom,_

_9830 Mason Drive_

_Tri-Cities, Kennewick_

_Washington_

It was my address, all right. And how did they know where I _slept_? I was about to ask Mr.-smiley-guy this when my parents came back in the room. Mom handed the guy his tea, and sat down on the couch next to me with Dad. Mom and Dad stared at the guy for a minute, who was just gazing obliviously around our living room, then Dad broke the silence.

"So, Mr… Dumbledore, wasn't it?"

He nodded, looking my father straight in the eyes. "Yes, indeed. Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts."

Dad nodded. "Right, right," he mumbled. "so, this school of yours… you teach magic, or something?"

Dumbledore nodded, and they started talking about the whole thing. I zoned out, and broke the seal on my new letter and read it again.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Ms. Holiday,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31. _

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

I read through it about three times. 'Supreme Mugwump'? 'Order of Merlin'? Jeeze, what nutty club was this guy in? 'We await your _owl_'? Shouldn't it be 'phone call', or something?

I lifted my head, and saw Dumbledore making a vase hover in midair while my parents made fools of themselves trying to find the wire. I rolled my eyes and whistled to get they're attention.

"Hey! Over here!" they looked at me, and the vase lowered itself to the table. "So, at this school, you'll be teaching me how to make things float with a stick?"

Dumbledore smiled wider, if that was even possible. "Yes, in essence, but we do teach you much more than that. You will learn how to make potions, transfigure, fly¾"

"I'm in." He'd said the magic word. No pun intended. Hey, if I got to fly, I was going.

He looked a bit taken aback that I'd interrupted him, but smiled. _again._ "Good. Well, Mr. and Mrs. Holiday, what is your opinion?"

I looked at them pleadingly. I wanted to fly, dammit!

Mom thought for a minute. "So, wait, this is like a boarding school, on the other side of the world, where my daughter will learn magic?"

"Precisely." Dumbledore said.

My parents began questioning him further, and I continued inspecting the letter. I didn't need to listen to know that I was going.

* * *

** So, what'd you think? This is my first fanfiction, but I've had the idea in my head since... I read the books. So, don't go easy on me. Tell me EXACTLY what is wrong, and what is right, and any doubts you have about this story continuing. Ask me questions, give me advice, critisize to no end. Please? :D **

**:D Reviewers get cookies, everyone gets thanks. New chapter up... eventually. Sorry, I'm not so good at updating. :P**

**REVIEW!**

**-Harlow**


	2. Chapter Two

Navigating the hidden wizard world inside London was not something I had thought about. Diagon Alley was a crooked, narrow street filled with people in pointy hats and dresses. The shops had displays of some of the strangest things, from broomsticks to just normal sticks.

My parent's reaction to the whole place: What the _hell _are all these people doing in dresses?

My reaction: Wand first. Let's go.

So, we headed straight to some rickety place with a sign reading Ollivander's, which Dumbledore had told us sold the best wands. I went in first, rolling my eyes at my skittish and obviously out of their depth parents.

An old guy was sitting at the counter, mumbling to himself and organizing papers by waving his wand around. I went straight up to the counter, and waited for a total of five seconds before knocking on the counter to get his attention.

"Excuse me?" I asked.

The old man looked up at me and smiled, and the papers still flying around his head shot into a drawer. What is with these wizard old guys and smiling?

"Hello." He said in a whispery voice.

"I'm looking for a wand." I said.

"Of course, of course." He pulled out a measuring tape, which quickly started twisting around me like a snake on crack.

"What is your name, dear?" He asked, fumbling through his aisles.

"Emory Holiday."

"Good, very good." Abruptly, the measuring tape stopped its hyper-speed measuring, and rolled itself up on the desk. the old guy, who I assumed was Ollivander, emerged from his stacks with a heap of long, thin boxes in his arms. He dropped them on the counter, making my parents jump. I rolled my eyes at them.

"Here we are." He opened the box on top, and pulled out a long, thin stick with a carved handle. "Try this one." He spoke slowly and quietly, and it was creeping me out. But, I accepted the wand, and started absently twirling it between my fingers.

It was snatched from my hand as quickly as it had been put in. "No." He said abruptly, already pulling another wand out from the box. "This one."

This one was shorter, just as thin, and had a smooth, nondescript handle. I twirled it, and had it snatched away again.

This pattern continued.

For twenty minutes.

Until there was only one left.

I guessed that he would let me actually keep this one. He hadn't explained his reasoning for taking them away in the first place, but this was the only one left he'd picked out. No matter what, the last one left was always right.

So, he handed me the last wand. It was a long one, maybe a foot or so, and a pretty tan color. The handle was simple, but elegant. It was thin, just a tad thicker than the average pencil, and I decided I really liked it.

"I'm keeping this one." I told him. I hadn't even twirled it. He just smiled, which perpetuated my assumption that all old wizards were deliriously happy. "How much?"

"Seven Galleons. That is a good wand that has chosen you. Ash, twelve inches with a unicorn hair core. Very nice, yes."

I raised my eyebrows, but pulled the necessary coinage from my pocket and dropped them in his hand. "Thanks." I said, turning to leave.

My parents were still standing awkwardly by the door, and Dad was looking warily at my new wand. I rolled my eyes, grabbed Mom's hand and left the shop. Dad followed along behind, and we continued shopping.

We went into most of the stores, even if we didn't need anything in them. The pet store was the one shop Mom wouldn't let me enter besides the obviously creepy. My mother considers most animals to be evil, due to a bad experience at the zoo when she was five.

I _really _wanted a flying broomstick, but Mom shot me down by pointing out that first-years weren't allowed to have brooms. Damn that fine print…

Flourish and Blott's was interesting. The stacks of floating books weirded out my parents. You'd think they'd be used to it by now, we'd only been here _all_ _day_. We found my books and got out, at Mom's insistence. This was our last stop, and she was done with all the magic. Well, _I _thought it was cool.

We left, and I couldn't help looking back at the Leaky Cauldron sign until it was out of sight.

* * *

The next day, we headed back to the US, and faced another problem: How were we going to explain my missing of the whole school year?

We'd decided that just going with a boarding school would work, but we'd have to fabricate it or do _something _to keep people from visiting me, sending me things without going through my parents, calling the school, or anything like that.

We eventually went with saying, 'It's a _very_ private school. Invitation only, no visitors, only immediate family can even know where it is or Emory will be expelled.' and similar things that would make it so only my parents had any contact with me. It _was _true, though. We weren't really lying, just leaving almost everything out.

So, for the rest of the summer, I pretty much made sure I was completely ready for school. I read through most of the books about halfway, when I decided that they were probably more exciting in practice. I absolutely couldn't help examining my wand every ten minutes, and the huge trunk I was supposed to take was filled to the brim and organized very precisely. Even so, I knew that after a week or so of school, it would be a complete mess.

I had to break the news to my friends, tell them to give any letters to my parents, and endure all sorts of goodbye crap for about two weeks.

Then it was time to go.

* * *

We were back in London, at the train station, examining my ticket on platform nine.

"Nine and three quarters?" Dad was saying incredulously. "You've got to be kidding me, it doesn't exist!" He continued on like that for ten minutes, while I sat on my cart with Mom.

Then, right as Dad was about to give up and sit down with us, a plump lady surrounded by red-heads walked by, announcing to the world that she knew where the platform was.

I stood up with my parents, and followed behind her. Well, behind some scrawny kid, really.

They all grouped up at a post in the middle of the station, and started running through the brick wall.

Not much surprises me, really. I expect the unexpected. I mean, I learned that I headed for a school where they taught magic and all I could do was wonder why they didn't have a school that was closer to me. But this was something completely new to me. Running through a brick wall? You've got to be kidding me.

So, I watched the spectacle from the next pylon, just out of earshot as the group of redheads and the black-haired, scrawny boy ran casually through the solid wall.

When they all disappeared, I looked at my parents. "I'm going. Bye."

Mom, of course got all teary-eyed. Dad was still completely dumbfounded by the pylon, and I could imagine him going up to the brick and banging on it as hard as he could. Mom smothered me with hugs and kisses, Dad snapped out of it and clapped me on the shoulder, and it was over too soon. Before I knew it, I was charging with my cart through a brick wall and into another train station.

I don't get homesick. It just doesn't happen. So, leaving my parents behind to go to a boarding school really didn't have much of an effect on me. They would write me, and I was sure I would get annoyed by it eventually.

The train was an old steam engine, and letters on the side of it depicted, 'Hogwarts Express'. I shrugged, and followed suit as everyone put their trunks in storage compartments and got on the train.

I'm weak. I have little to no upper body strength, and trying to lift a single trunk containing all of my clothes, my favorite books _and _my spell books, and random crap from my room is something I am incapable of.

So, I sighed, looking at the trunk morosely. I then shrugged, hopped up on the thing sitting with my legs crossed, and whistled as loudly as I could.

I may not be able to lift heavy objects, but boy can I whistle.

I managed to catch the attention of a boy who looked to be about three or four years older than me, and I waved him over. He came, looking confused but not really upset that I'd bothered him.

"Yes?" He asked, politely fascinated.

"Can you stick this thing," I pointed to the trunk. "In there?" I pointed to the train. The boy smiled.

"Sure." I hopped down, and watched as he easily lifted it and pushed it into the back of the car. When he was done, he held out his hand for me to shake. "Cedric Diggory."

"Emory Holiday." I took his outstretched hand, trying to ignore the fact that he was way taller than me and I had to crane my neck to look at him. "Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, too."

We stood there awkwardly for a second, then I thought something along the lines of, _screw_ _it_, and headed into the train car.

I wandered down the aisle, and only saw that nothing was empty. I recognized the redheads in a few different compartments, and the black-haired boy with one of them. Otherwise, I was totally lost.

So, I vouched for the last compartment in the car. There were three people in it, none of which I knew, of course, but I thought it was worth a shot.

I knocked on the door frame. "Hey, can I sit in here?"

A bushy-haired girl perked up and smiled widely. Jeeze, what's with all the smiles? "Sure! My name's Hermione Granger, and this is Luna," She gestured to a blond girl with her nose in a magazine, "and this is Neville." She pointed to a boy's hind end that was sticking out from under the seat. "He's lost his toad." She added at my quizzical look.

"Ah." I nodded, and sat next to the blond girl.

"Is this your first year?" Asked the bushy-haired girl, Hermione. "It's my first year. I'm so excited! I've read every single one of our spell books, and even practiced a few!"

I just nodded, leaning back. She kept on chattering happily until the train started moving, at which point she looked eagerly out the window for about thirty seconds.

Then she started talking again. "What house do you think you'll be in? I think I'm going to be in Ravenclaw. What about you?"

I was a bit surprised that she'd actually stopped talking for a long enough period of time for me to answer.

"Um…" I was saved by the boy, Neville.

"OW!" He emerged from underneath the seat, rubbing the back of his head. "I can't find him! I think he got out." He addressed Hermione. "Do you suppose he's still in the car?"

She shrugged. "We could go look. Come on then, Neville."

And they left. Leaving me with the blond girl and her magazine. After about ten minutes of nothing, I almost broke the silence and asked her what she was reading.

Then Neville and Hermione came back, Neville looking distraught and Hermione somehow managing to look even frizzier.

"I just saw Harry Potter! I fixed his glasses!"

I looked at her like she was insane. "Who and why?" I asked, though I didn't really want her to start ranting again.

She looked at me like _I _was insane. "Harry Potter? The boy who lived? Didn't you read any of your history books?"

"Um, not really no. 'The boy who lived'?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, and stood to pull her bag from the overhead storage thing. She promptly slammed one of our school books in my lap, and said very sternly, "Read."

So, I read. I flipped through the book until I found where I'd left off, and started reading.

I skimmed over most of it. Wizard history, though different, is just as boring as normal history.

Towards the end of the book was a chapter on Harry Potter, how he stopped 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named', or as the book stated once, and only once, Voldemort, and how he's the only one to have survived. Especially as a baby.

I shrugged. "Okay. So, this kid stopped this guy, Voldemort," I rolled my eyes as everybody cringed and gasped, "When he was a baby?"

Hermione was looking at me in fright. "Don't say his name."

I shrugged. "If it makes you feel better."

Her gaze turned curious, and she cocked her head. "Are you muggle-born?"

"Huh?"

She smiled at me. "That means yes. A muggle is a non-magic person. If your parents are muggles, and you're a witch or wizard, you're muggle-born. Like me."

"Ah." was my genius response.

Neville had returned by now, and Hermione started comforting him about his lost toad. I leaned back in my seat, and looked out the window, listening to the pointless chatter of the bushy girl in front of me.

"It really is an amazing thing, you know." Said a wispy voice beside me. I turned to look at the blond girl, Luna, and found her looking up from her magazine at me. "That he survived. The only ones who have survived are the ones that joined him."

"And how does this affect me?" I asked.

Luna shrugged, going back to her magazine. "I don't know. It's just interesting, is all."

I grunted, and went back to the window and flying landscape.

* * *

**Wow, I actually updated without waiting a month or so... weird.**

**So, REVIEW! Emily gets cookies!!! If you review, you get cookies. So, review.**

**Please? :P**

**-Harlow**


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